


Washington's Army

by morninglassofoj



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Marching Band, Gen, Multi, all the innuendos that come with a marching band au, alternate universe- Alex's mom is alive, because fuck you history, character with cancer, colorguard - freeform, marching band- freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-28
Updated: 2017-03-23
Packaged: 2018-09-27 13:35:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10022870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morninglassofoj/pseuds/morninglassofoj
Summary: Alex and his mother move to Mount Vernon, Virginia to be closer to her oncologist. With the stress of junior year, in addition to his mother's treatment, Alex is glad to be able to throw himself into the band program there. But, little does he know, the small band program there is on the verge of losing most of its funding. Superintendent George King says he'll be happy to give them back their funding, on one condition:Win State.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This Au is very heavily based off my high school marching band in Texas, so it might be very different from what marching bands are actually like in Virginia. My senior year, the name of our show was Rise, and I just couldn't resist. All characters are sorted by instrument based on the stereotypes from my school. If you want to yell at me, catch me on tumblr -> www.morninglassofoj.tumblr.com

The six story walk-up to their apartment was long, like it always was, floorboards screeching underfoot. At least, in mid-April, it wasn’t cold in the stairwell. His key stuck in the lock, just like it did every day, and Alex chuckled to himself. Well, if nothing else that was consistent.  


“I know, Sarah, and I promise, we’re doing okay- Okay, yes, things could be going better.”  


Alex shut the door to their apartment as quietly as he could, trying not to disturb his mother’s conversation. She turned and waved to him, as he tiptoed to his room. He didn’t need to listen in to know what they were talking about. Everyone was talking about it; even people he didn’t know. Kids he had never talked to would point at him in the hallways, whispering amongst themselves.  


‘You see that kid? His mom has cancer.’  


‘I heard it was terminal, she’s gonna die soon.’  


He flopped down onto his bed, rubbing his eyes. No one really talked to him anymore, not that anyone did anyway. They just looked at him with pity in their eyes, and he worked harder, avoiding their stares. The only place he hadn’t felt the stares was in band, and even now, with concert season over, he would ultimately find himself retreating to the practice rooms and making his way through his advanced studies book until his lips were numb.  


“No, I don’t have a treatment plan yet, we’re still looking for an oncologist on our insurance plan,” his mother’s tired voice could be heard easily through the thin walls. Alex sighed, getting out his textbook to start his homework and letting the scratch of his pencil over paper drown out everything around him.  


An hour later, he heard a soft knock on his door and looked up as his mom walked in and sat next to him on his bed and pulled him into a tight hug.  


“Sweetheart,” she began, after a few minutes, “you remember the Mulligans, right?”

 

Alex watched as the trees flew by outside his window. Since the call Sarah Mulligan made that day, his mother had been making this drive twice a week and this would be the last one. They had all of their things stuffed in the back of their small car, and were on their way to officially move in with His mom’s old college roommate and her family. There had been some protests on his mom’s side, but when she found a good doctor in the small suburb they lived in, the argument had been settled.  


Looking at his mom, her hair was beginning to thin and she had begun to lose weight like the oncologist said she would. She got tired earlier than usual now, and there were worry lines surrounding her cheerful eyes, but they lit up all the same when the sign for their exit came into view.  


From what Alex gathered, Mount Vernon was a relatively small suburb of Alexandria, Virginia, and as they drove by all the neighborhoods, it appeared to be rather wealthy as well. Massive houses, situated on larger, impeccably landscaped lots, passed by his window. He sighed, remembering the articles he had found online about their school district. Small graduating classes, but plenty of AP courses for him to sink his teeth into. They hadn’t found much on their band program, but Alex had been told that it was pretty good, as far as band programs went. Hercules, the Mulligan’s son, was on their drumline and sung nothing but the program’s praises, so that at least was something Alex could look forward to.  


As they rounded the corner onto another street, Alex felt relieved to notice these houses were much more reasonable in size. His mother pulled the car into a driveway in front of a two-story house with a well-manicured garden in front. Before the two could even make it out of the car, a woman nearly exploded out of the house, running to pull his mother into a crushing embrace.  


The two women were immediately laughing and talking excitedly so Alex opted to start unloading the car until he too was suddenly being hugged.  


“Alexander Hamilton!” Mrs. Mulligan cried, lifting him off the ground-not a difficult feat necessarily, but still impressive- “I haven’t seen you since you were a baby!” She put him down just long enough to give him a once over before pulling him back into a crushing hug. “We need to put some meat on your bones you’re too skinny.”  


The next two hours were a flurry of getting everything moved in that wouldn’t be put in storage, and Alex found himself sitting in Hercules’ room, unsure of what to do. Mrs. Mulligan-Sarah, as he had been told to call her-had directed him to the spare bed. His mother was in the guest room, and Sarah had protested loudly when he had pulled out the air mattress they brought. He left his things in his suitcase-he was unsure where to put it in the room-and shoved it under his bed before joining the parents downstairs.  


Most of what they were talking about was just rehashing what Alex already knew. His mother, luckily, was getting to do most of her work remotely so she wouldn’t be driving back up to New York nearly as often- “One of the only perks to being an accountant,” she joked-and would continue her chemo on a more regular basis now. Alex also got to know more about the Mulligans’ tailor shop and what all that entailed. Mr. Mulligan-Hugh-obviously loved his work, and he was halfway through a discussion on how busy prom and homecoming season was when the home phone rang.  


“Ooh, that’ll be Herc,” Sarah exclaimed, rushing to answer. There was excited yelling on the other end of the line, reciprocated by Sarah. Not even a full day in, and Alex had already gathered that this was a very loud family.  


“He made quad line, Hugh!” she shouted from the kitchen.  


“That’s my boy!” Hugh yelled back, pumping his fist in the air.  


There was a moment, slightly less loud than before, then Sarah spoke again, “Hercules Mulligan where on earth are we going to keep a marimba all summer?”  
Another pause.  


“Oh of course, in your room, my mistake, because, you know, there is just so much room in there and you keep it so clean. Have you forgotten you have a guest staying in your room with-No I am not going to ask him if he minds! That is not something-“  


“If it helps,” Alex spoke up, “I really don’t mind.”  


“Oh Alex, honey,” she said, turning to face him, “you really don’t have to say that.”  


“No, I’m serious, I don’t mind. Besides, I’ll be practicing my trumpet all summer.”  


She sighed before directing her attention back to the phone. “Fine. You can borrow the truck to bring it home, but you’re running errands while you have it.  


“Oh,” she paused, smiling at Alex once more, “and you should probably take Alex to meet the General.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This updated way later than i planned on because my computer broke and I only just got it back. Hope you enjoy!

Hercules Mulligan was a loud kid, if Alex had gathered nothing else in the fifteen-minute drive from their house to the school. He didn’t even bother introducing himself, only calling out for Alex to grab his trumpet before they were off in his father’s truck. Laughing loudly over the radio, (which was playing equally loud) he told Alex about drumline try outs and how he had been lucky enough to draw first pick on which instrument you took home over the summer. He had, apparently, beat out James Madison, someone Alex didn’t learn anything else about beyond that he had gotten the marimba every year before.  


He was also a pretty big kid, towering over Alex by nearly half a foot and looking as if it would be no trouble to toss him across the room. Alex supposed this was good thing, considering how heavy he had heard the drum line equipment was.  


“I’m serious man, you’re gonna love it here. I mean, band camp is gonna kick your skinny ass and make you want to kill yourself, but I promise, the look of the General’s face after a good rep is all you need to push through.”  


The General, apparently, was the band director at Mount Vernon. From what Alex could tell, he seemed to be the high school’s very own national treasure, keeping the marching band in line through sheer force of will.  


He was the type of man that a group of roughly one hundred teenagers would gladly follow to the end of the earth.  


“So why do you all call him the general anyway?” Alex asked, yelling to be heard over the radio.  


Hercules shrugged. “No one knows. At least, no one at the school now. Every grad we’ve ever asked says that everyone called him that when they got here.” Alex chuckled at hiss response, looking out the window at the sky, beginning to turn orange in the late afternoon.  


Hercules expertly backed into a parking spot in front of the high school and hopped out, leaving Alex trailing behind him, trumpet case in hand. He banged hard on a wide door and a minute later a tired looking kid with a shaved head opened it and fixed Hercules with an exasperated glare.  


“The side door is unlocked, Mulligan,” he sighed, “It always is. You know this.”  


“Thanks Burr, I’ll keep that in mind. Now, scooch.” Hercules quipped, sliding by the shorter boy, Alex in tow.  


They reached another door (this one got knocked on much more politely) with a nameplate reading ‘George Washington.’ The man inside waved through the window for them to come in, deep in conversation on the phone. Without looking at Hercules, he tossed a ring of keys and waved him away. Still not looking up from the legal pad he was writing on, he pointed at Alex, then at a chair next to the door. Hercules shot him a thumbs-up before rushing out of the room.  


Alex sat there for a few minutes twiddling his thumbs while the man spoke on the phone. Well, spoke was generous. Mostly he made vague noises of acknowledgement while jotting down notes.  


“Thank you for letting me know, Henry. I’ll call King tomorrow and see if I can get anywhere with him. You have a good summer.” He said in a gruff but warm voice.  


Sighing, the man finally looked over at Alex, rubbing his temples. “Alright, now what did you want-“ he paused to look at Alex, a confused expression on his face. “Who are you?”  


“Oh!” Alex scrambled to his feet to shake the man’s hand. “Alex Hamilton, sir. Hercules Mulligan kind of dropped me off.”  


“Hamilton? Oh, yes, I remember speaking with your mother a few weeks ago. You just moved from New York?”  


Alex nodded in response. “I was hoping I could have the audition music so I could begin preparing.”  


“The audition music?” Washington asked. “Son, you missed auditions; they took place at the end of the school year.”  


Alex sat there for a moment, dumbfounded. “I-I what?”  


“We held auditions in April.” Washington spoke slowly and carefully. “I believe I was in contact with your last director; he told me you understood that.”  


Alex could feel his face heating up. “Umm, Mr. Martinez wasn’t exactly in the habit of relaying information to us very often.”  


Washington sighed, rubbing his temples and checking the clock above his office door, “Well, son, I don’t know what to tell you, we already established our roster, and you were put in our third band since you didn’t show up. But, I can give you the show music and you can start learning that.”  


“Let me audition at the beginning of band camp, when you hand out parts,” Alex bargained, “I’m a hard worker, and I was first chair, first band at my last school!”  
Washington held up a hand, signaling Alex to stop, “I already told you, our rosters have been decid-“  


“My class schedule won’t be finalized until a week before school starts, sir.”  


Washington was silent for a moment, mulling over Alex’s argument. “You’re a junior?” It was a statement more than a question.  


Alex nodded. “Yes, sir.”  


Washington hummed. “Then you’ll have a free period.” He paused once more. “Tell you what, kid. I’ll make you a deal. You can audition at band camp, but you will still be in third band.”  


“But sir-“  


Alex felt himself breaking into a grin. “Thank you, sir,”  


“Don’t thank me yet, Hamilton. In return, higher band or not, you’ll reorganize and maintain our music library after band camp.” He let that sink in for a few seconds.  


Alex chewed his lip, contemplating, “What does that entail, sir?”  


Washington smirked, “Does it matter?”  


Alex chuckled, shrugging in response. “No, sir, I guess it doesn’t.”  


“That’s what I thought. Now,” he bent under the desk, rifling through a filing cabinet until he procured a piece of sheet music, “we only assigned the first half for auditions this year. But, since you will have at least double the time to study it, learn the entire piece.” He spoke in a matter-of-fact tone, leaving no room for protest, “I’ll see you on the first day of band camp, exactly an hour before we put foot to field. Don’t be late, and don’t be on time. I won’t be giving you any reminders, so it’s up to you to be there.”  


He handed him another packet of sheet music. “This is the show music, have the first movement memorized by August. Any questions?”  


Alex shook his head, looking down at the music he’d be given. Washington cleared his throat, and Alex looked up to find him looking at him expectantly.  


“No, sir,” Alex amended.  


“Good. Now go help Mulligan get that marimba loaded up. Madison won’t be much help.”  


Alex nodded, feeling oddly like he should salute before leaving. “Thank you, sir.”  


They did eventually get the marimba loaded and strapped safely in the truck; Mr. Washington had been right, Madison didn’t do much besides hold the door open, and Burr had mysteriously disappeared. By the time they were ready to leave, Washington was locking up and looking very impatient for everyone to leave. Getting the marimba up the stairs to their shared room was a different matter entirely-not helped by the presence of Mrs. Mulligan laughing as they struggled to get the heavy metal frame up the narrow staircase. Only when it rested snuggly between the two beds with the many keys back properly in place was Hercules content.  


Dinner was a boisterous affair. The Mulligans were all just as loud as Hercules which, coupled with his mother’s own good mood, led to Alex’s side aching from laughing. What with everyone catching up and sharing memories from college, they were sitting in the dining room until late into the night. It was nearly one in the morning before Alex and Herc had turned out the light. 

 

The first week was filled with the same unnecessary discomfort that always came about when two families were learning to mesh one’s daily routines with the other. For the most part Alex and Herc woke at the same time, but the latter stayed up on his phone for a while later into the night. Hercules’ friends were currently spread out across the country for vacations or different camps. One friend was even spending the summer in France visiting family. But, they all kept in relatively close contact, despite time differences and packed schedules.  


“I was actually pretty stoked you and your mom were coming to stay with us. Normally, I’m the only one staying in town for the summer,” Herc confided one night.  


Alex chuckled, shaking his head. “I know how that feels, man. Back when we lived upstate with my dad, all the neighbors would go to their summer homes,” he wrinkled his nose in mock disgust, adopting a snooty tone of voice.  


“I wish everyone was here, I know they’d like you, man,” He laughed “Hell, Peggy will be ecstatic that there’s someone else her size.”  


He looked at the clock on his bedside table. “Actually…” he said with a distinctly mischievous grin, “Laf made a particularly terrible pun yesterday and hasn’t responded since.” He pulled out his phone dialing a number seemingly from memory. “And, I think now would be the perfect time to…check up on him and make sure, you know, he didn’t die or anything. Because I care about him and his wellbeing.”  


Alex went over to sit next to him on his bed, tripping a bit over the marimba on the way over-the amount of times they had stubbed a toe or hit their hip was getting ridiculous. The phone rang for a minute, the familiar facetime tone loud in the relative quiet of the house at ten o’clock, before a sleepy face appeared onscreen.  


“Herc, what the fuck?” The boy groaned in a heavy French accent, “It is three in the morning and you know that.”  


“You have ruined The Lion King for me. I just wanted to let you know that.” Hercules quipped.  


The boy-Lafayette-chuckled, mumbling something akin to ‘so that’s what this is about,’ throat thick with sleep, “Look, I’m just saying that the whole death scene could be avoided if,”  


“Don’t you say it.”  


“If Simba had just tried to Mufasa.”  


“Goddamnit.” Alex couldn’t help laughing at Hercules’ disgruntled face.  


“No!” Herc snapped, pointing a finger at Alex, “Don’t encourage him. He’s getting worse than John.”  


Lafayette gasped, clutching his chest, “To be fair, I was always this ‘punny,’ as you say. It is not my fault that you do not speak French. Nevertheless, I am honored to be considered on the same comedic plane as our dear Laurens. Now,” he said, yawning and rubbing his eyes, “are you going to introduce me, or are you just going to make fun of me in front of your new friend?”  


Alex chuckled, waving awkwardly. “Oh, yeah, this is Alex.” Hercules said, slapping him heavily on the back. “Alex, this is Gilbert.”  


The other boy groaned again, “You motherfucker. You make it sound terrible, all hard and gutteral.” He sighed, directing his attention to Alex. “Just call me Lafayette, unless you are a decent human being, unlike our lovely Mulligan here, and want to pronounce it correctly.”  


Alex found himself laughing outright now. “I’ll keep that in mind.”  


The three talked for a while, Lafayette detailing all he had been up to while he had been ‘AWOL,’ according to Herc, and the other filling him in on his own summer, and those of their other friends.  


“We had brunch with the Jeffersons this morning.”  


Hercules winced, “Oooh and how was that?”  


Lafayette shrugged. “I mean, the food was good. As much as I missed crepes, I now find myself missing waffles.”  


“No, no, no,” Herc shook his head, “How was the Jefferson part of that?”  


“Well,” Lafayette sighed, “he was much the same as usual, however, vacation always agrees with him, so he was a touch milder. But, you must also consider that I purposefully aggravate him far less frequently than you and John. Thus, he is nicer to me.”  


“That’s because you have the cheat codes.” Hercules grumbled under his breath, making Alex chuckle.  


“Umm, who is Jefferson?” He asked  


Herc opened his mouth to respond, but Laf beat him to it. “No, stop. Unless you have information to impart to our friend here beyond,” the boy paused, clearing his throat and continuing in a mockingly deep voice, “‘He’s an asshole. Laf, I don’t understand how you tolerate him, Laf. You are truly a saint and I admire you greatly, Laf,’”  


“Hey, I didn’t say the last part,” Hercules accused, laughing.  


“Ah, but it is obvious in everything you do, my friend. Jefferson is a friend of mine since childhood. His family often summers in France, not far from our house, and they are primarily the reason I am in Mount Vernon. When my father’s job transferred him to America, we chose to move close to our American friends.”  


“He’s also an asshole.” Herc added.  
“No, he is not,” Lafayette scolded. “he is merely, as he himself would phrase it, ‘a bit of a character.’ He cares deeply about things, and can be a bit close-minded at times.”  


“He cares deeply about being an asshole,” Herc mumbled  


“Quiet, you!” Lafayette paused humming, “What instrument do you play?”  


“Trumpet, why?” Alex answered.  


Laf started laughing, “Oh my,” he giggled, wiping away an imaginary tear, “you will meet Jefferson soon enough. Are you good?”  


Alex hesitated, but Hercules interjected, “Yeah he’s really good. Washington is letting him audition at the beginning of band camp. I’m ninety-five percent sure he’ll be in first band with us.”  


Lafayette gasped, “So you have managed to appeal to The General’s iron heart? The man allows no exceptions to the audition results. Did you make a deal? What part of you have you promised away?”  


Alex shrugged, “If I make a higher band I’m in it, but I spend my free period organizing and maintaining the music library.”  


Lafayette gaped. “The General is not an organized man; that library hasn’t been touched since the nineties. We’ve just been accumulating new pieces and throwing it onto the piles.”  


“I told you he was vaguely self-destructive.” Herc stage-whispered.  


Laf sighed, looking off to the side, “Well, if you are truly good at trumpet, Alexander, you will get to know Jefferson in a way similar to how Hercules and John know him. Tommy is a dear friend, but I would not want to be sitting next to him in band. We horns sit close enough already. Now, I must take your leave, gentlemen. The sun is rising, and for that, Herc, I hate you.”  


The three said their goodbyes, and Alex was surprised to see the clock on the phone reading one in the morning. As he and Herc got ready to sleep, a thought occurred to Alex.  


“Wait, did he say he plays the French horn?”  


Herc chuckled, nodding. “He plays flute and piano as well. He moved here in sixth grade when everyone was choosing instruments. To this day, I’m not sure if he just wanted a challenge instead of continuing with flute, or if he wanted to make himself a living joke, or if it was an unholy combination of the two. But, joke or not, he’s first chair and one of the best horns we’ve had in a while.”  


As if something else occurred to him, he started laughing harder, “You should see him with his instrument, I swear I think he might be legally married to it. He named it Adrienne.” He paused, turning to fix Alex with a serious look, “If you value your life, do not insult her.”  


The two boys stared at each other for a moment before bursting out into laughter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before you yell at me, yes. I did make Laf a french horn just for the memes.


End file.
